If Only He Had Known Before
by netflixqueen
Summary: CS High School/GossipGirl-esque AU. Emma Swan lives a perfect life on the Upper East Side of New York as the good girl, with perfect grades, the perfect look, and a perfect future. Killian Jones lives a turbulent life in the Upper East as well, only he is recognized as the sought-after bad boy. Their lives could never be more different until they start a forbidden affair together.


He loves the way she kisses her father on the forehead before she struts off, designer tote in hand and notebooks in the other. She's smiling at her many friends, acquaintances, and admirers, and he relishes in the fact that he's one the lucky ones who actually knows her through and through. He watches her as he leans against the brick wall of the school, shooting her a devilish smirk as she subtly returns it. Her blonde hair swishes from side to side before she disappears inside the school, always one to be on time.

She glances at him in study hall, pretending to be listening to Mary Margaret rambling on and on about her and David's date the other night. Her Harvard acceptance letter is in front of her, displaying a symbol of achievement and a worthwhile reward for being one of the few industrious, hard-working students for twelve years straight. Unlike him, who has always put parties, girls, and sports before school. But she knows that she is his ultimate priority.

That evening, she thinks of him as she studies for her English assessment that isn't until a week and a half later. She looks out the window, staring at the perpetual streets of the Upper East Side from inside her grand penthouse. She's unbeknownst to how he is thinking of her the same way, except he isn't studying. He's at a club with his mates, a pounding dubstep beat booming from the speakers in the atmosphere. It's a school night, although he doesn't care the tiniest bit. There are a group of college girls fawning over him with nearly the same shade of blonde hair as her, but the shade of blonde is completely different in his eyes. They're not her.

That night, at precisely midnight, she sneaks out of the penthouse, making sure her parents are sound asleep. The elevator is quiet as it descends to the lobby. She exits when it reaches its destination, wrapping her trench coat around her lithe body, hurrying out of the building. She then rounds the corner to find him leaning against the brick wall, one of the many positions she loves to find him in. Instantly, their lips are pressed against each other and the bustling world of the big apple fades away. It is only the other on their minds.

"Emma," he groans into her mouth as she tugs on his black hair.

"Killian," she says breathlessly, as she grabs his collar possessively, the other hand remaining in his hair.

His hands roam the fabric of her trench coat, careful not to venture underneath. He wants nothing more than to rip that bloody restriction off her body, but he doesn't want them to get arrested for public indecency. They'll have to wait for study hall tomorrow, where they can defile the locker room, an empty classroom, or any closed off place they can find at Ivy Prep Academy.

Their session ends with whispers of sweet nothings.

"Just wait until tomorrow." She says seductively, "I'll wear the indigo lace."

He smirks, the memory of the last time she wore her indigo lace appearing fresh in his mind.

"Someone's being a bad girl, isn't she? Ivy Prep's poster student, Emma Swan, seducing the dashing rapscallion of all of New York, what would people think?" He replies, his tone just as saucy.

"If I was a bad girl, you couldn't handle it." She says, nipping his earlobe promisingly.

"Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it." He emphasizes the last letter of the last word purposely, knowing it drives her insane when he shows his British accent.

She sashays away, shooting him a smug smirk over her shoulder and leaving him the lingering taste of her lips. He's left smiling with sadness in his sea-colored eyes, knowing this is their last year together. If he had known sooner, he would have actually tried.

* * *

The next day, she sits in history class, clad in another one of her immaculate, designer outfits, wearing her lacy indigo lingerie underneath. Her test from a week ago is handed back to her, a bold red 'A' written in the right-hand corner. His eyes burn into the back of her head before his test is also handed back, a disappointing 'C-' written. It's his average. He doesn't care for school, but if he had known sooner, he would have actually tried.

She gets up from her seat at study hall, telling her friends (that are all dressed depressingly similar to her) that she needs to find a book. They nod, oblivious to her true antics. On the opposite side of the library, he gets up from his seat as well, telling his soccer buddies he needs a book. They chuckle, because none of them actually study. He meets her in the rarely used historical fiction section. The library is huge, no one will hear them if they keep quiet. It's riskier than their usual, but it will have to do for now.

Their lips attack each other's, the tenderness from last night is gone and it is replaced with raw, burning passion. He hauls her up, wrapping her long, thin, tight-clad legs around his waist, pinning her against the book case. Their tongues are now dueling as she works on getting his pants unzipped. They pull off only the most relevant clothing because they have to be as efficient as they can. He briefly admires the contrast of the indigo lace against porcelain skin before thrusting into her. It's quick, fast, and hard. They actually manage to be quiet.

"Killian," she moans almost inaudibly into his neck.

It's over almost as fast as it started.

"I love you." He says sincerely as they hastily make themselves look presentable.

"I love you, too." She murmurs back, placing a chaste kiss on his jaw line before allowing him to go, telling him she'll wait thirty seconds to avoid suspicion.

They keep this routine up for nearly all of the school year.

* * *

In May, she excitedly calls him. Her parents have departed to the airport to visit Cancun for two weeks. She tells him that he can stay at her place for the whole duration of the trip. Of course, he says yes to this and immediately calls a cab to her place. They get to work the moment he arrives, doing it against the wall in her foyer, on the counter top in the kitchen, and finally, on her bed.

That night, they sleep soundly. That's before the _ding _of the elevator is heard, except not by them. Her parents are arguing as they enter their home, angrily hauling their suitcases behind them. Their flight had been cancelled, and even with the nearly endless supply of money the Swan family had, they didn't want to suffer through public airplanes again.

"Next time," Mrs. Swan reminds her husband, "you need to tell your bastard of a brother to not hog the private jet."

Still, they're not awake.

Her mother barges into her room, flicking the lights open, only to find her precious, good girl daughter in bed with _him_, the son of the family's ultimate rivalry, Kimberly and Robert Jones. The Swan and Jones families have been in bitter rivalry ever since an employee of Swan Energy & Co. leaked trade secrets to Jones Industries. Her parents are more than livid at the sight before them, obviously.

Less than civil phone calls were made, tears were shed, profanities were uttered, front page stories were released (_"Swan Socialite Caught with Upper East Side's Youngest Man Candy!"_), and all in all, they were never to see other again. Much less think of each other.

It was impossible.

* * *

She's miserable the rest of her school year. Her grades remain the same, perfect, straight A's, but her papers lack the flare and vibrancy they usually have, opting for common adjectives and verbs rather than the most obscure ones she usually scours thesauruses to find. His grades, on the other hand, slip drastically. He barely manages to get into Columbia with a lacrosse scholarship and some persuasion from his parents. If he had only known before and tried harder, he could have been at Harvard with her, where their parents couldn't spy on them.

She drowns herself in school work and excessively shopping. She practically buys out Bergdorf Goodman one weekend and her parents are furious. The receipt is practically triple her usual amount. And even with the Swans' nearly endless supply of money, they are concerned and upset, because all the clothing she bought is out-of-character, dark shades of burgundy, black, blue, and charcoal grey. But, she bought those because those are the colors he usually wears and goddamn, does she miss clinging to and/or taking off his clothing.

Graduation and the parties following it feel like a waste to both of them. She is elected as valedictorian, and he has to fight the temptation to stand up from his seat, storm onto the stage, and kiss her with the highest amount of passion he can muster. But he doesn't. He sits next to Robin and David calmly, although he is gritting his teeth.

Summer feels like a waste as well. They both stay in the Hamptons, as usual, but they're kept far away from each other, their parents make sure of that. She misses their nighttime rendezvouses out to the beach when everyone else is already asleep. She misses running her hands over his bare, toned chest as they kiss on the sand. She misses venturing into the ocean with him, wrapping her legs around him as they tread into the deeper waters, laughing and shrieking. She just misses him. And he misses her, too.

* * *

It isn't until September of the next school year they speak to each other. She is about to step into her town car to depart to Harvard before she sees that combination of black hair and sea-colored eyes. He's walking towards her determinedly, hands in his pockets. She tells her driver to wait and immediately runs as fast as she can in Stella McCartney heels to him.

She jumps into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and peppering kisses all over his face and neck. His scent fills her nostrils as she buries her face into the crook of his neck. He holds onto her just as tight, his eyes watering. He hasn't cried in years, not even when her parents caught them together.

She's about to leave him for four years. He's about to let her go for four years. The only way they'll be able to connect is through text messages that will have to be deleted the moment they are sent, phone calls, and Skype calls that must be immediately cleared from their call histories. But even that's not enough. They'll be hundreds and hundreds of miles apart, her in Massachusetts and him in New York.

"I love you, I love you so much." Emma says, "I want to be with you forever."

"I know, love, I know. There's not a day that will go by I won't think of you, love." Killian promises her as he sets her back down on her feet, hands settling on her petite waist.

"Good." She replies, eyes teary, "I want us to run away together when we graduate. We'll go to Rome or somewhere, away from all this stupid Upper East Side drama. Away from our parents and their companies and everyone we know. All I want is to be with you."

"You know how much I want that. I'd go to the ends of the earth for you. Or time." He says, before she kisses him passionately one last time before an interval of four years that deprives them of face-to-face contact.

It's all silence for a moment, as if time stands still at 8:15 in the morning. The only sounds are their inhales and exhales as their foreheads are leaning against each other.

"If I had known before that the goody-two-shoes daughter of my parents' rivals would end up to be my true love, I would have tried harder. I would have tried harder in school, so I could be at Harvard with you. I would have tried harder to be nice to you that day we first met, that day I stole the red crayon… I wouldn't have made you cry. I would have tried harder to not be such a jerk before we fell into this, I wouldn't have slept around and partied all night. I just… I would have tried harder. Because if I did, maybe it wouldn't be such a shock to everyone that we were together. We could have-" She cuts off his confession.

"Killian, if you were a goody-two-shoes just like me, I wouldn't have fallen in love with you this way. Sure, we probably would have fallen in love, anyways, but not in this thrilling, exciting, adrenaline rush-filled way of muffled trysts in the library and meet-ups at midnight. Our love story would have been vanilla if you were a do-gooder, but this… this story is a strawberry, hazelnut, mint ice-cream sundae with chocolate-butterscotch swirls and cookie dough and walnuts with drizzles of hot fudge and caramel, whipped cream, sprinkles, and a cherry on top. And I fucking loved every moment of it until the end. When I return, we will have another extravagant ice-cream sundae love story. Except this time, we can take all the judgment and drama out of it." Emma says, feeling happiness as the words tumbled out of her mouth despite the intense sadness that lived inside her.

"God, I love you." Killian sighs, pressing their lips together fervently as he began to speak through the kiss, "My beautiful… smart… sexy… thoughtful… alluring… courageous… princess."

"And I love you, my stupid… funny… smug… amazing… clever… sexy… devilishly handsome pirate." Emma says, feeling a tear fall off her cheek and splatter onto the concrete sidewalk of New York, her home of eighteen years.

Their final good-byes were spoken. The final "I-love-you" was said. Emma departs, her heels clicking against the sidewalk, her sniffling from shedding tears earlier audible. Her blonde hair swished from side to side one last time before she slipped into the car. Killian quickly dries his face of the salty water, turning around. He can't bear to see the car drive away, because he wants her blonde hair swishing from side to side to be the last memory of her, not a stupid black town car driving away.

He had just seen her, yet he already misses her.

* * *

Four years passed. Four years of text messages that couldn't be read twice because they had to be deleted immediately. Four years of Skype calls that had to be deleted from their history the moment they ended. Four years of whispered phone calls.

Their parents made sure their children didn't visit each other, going as far as hiring actors to pretend to be their friends only to have them report their every movement. Once, she tried to get a bus ticket to New York over winter break, but her so-called "friend" ratted her out. Her parents were furious and confiscated her cell phone for a month. Thank goodness she deleted all her messages and call history before it was taken.

Emma and Killian meet halfway in Atlantic City, New Jersey. The only tip they left their parents were post-it notes with, "gone for summer. xoxo," written on them. Emma had graduated less than a week ago with a bachelor's degree in fashion journalism, while Killian sported one in business; one of the few things he and his estranged father had in common was that they both loved being the boss of their own companies.

"I missed you." She says, caressing the stubble on his face, admiring how much brighter his sea-colored eyes looked in person.

"There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think of you." He responds, his fingertips trailing down her sides. His smile is bright and loving.

"We Skyped once a week and texted constantly." She chuckles, knowing fully well that seeing his face on a low quality laptop webcam was nothing compared to seeing Killian Jones himself in person, "And you totally borrowed that line from four years ago."

"Well, it's the truth, love. Plus, you know we couldn't read those messages more than twice." He admits his smile smug, just as smug as it was in high school.

"I love you." She says, wrapping her arms around his neck, letting her fingers dangle.

"I love you, too." He says sincerely.

Their lips connect and it's tender and fervent at the same time, gentle and passionate all at once. They're falling faster than they ever have before, the thought of their freedom simply churning their love for each other stronger. Four years ago, it was the end of their silly, sneaky high school affair and the start of their starvation of each other. But now, it's end of the starvation. It's the beginning of their next adventure, the adventure where they take the world by storm, disappointing their parents, causing a stir on the Upper East Side, and forgetting everything they left behind. The Princess and the Pirate together at last.

And Killian, for the first time in forever, truly doesn't wish he had known before because if he didn't, he wouldn't be falling this fast right now. And falling this fast feels better than anything.

Because finally, they are free.


End file.
